Page 15 of The Duke and his Hellion
“So, my lady,” he murmured, “are you ready to learn the finer points of courtship? The delicate dance of attraction and pursuit that lies at the heart of every match made in the ton?”
Abigail looked at him quickly and his eyes crinkled as deep laughter rumbled through his chest.
“I apologize, my lady,” he said now. “But you cannot deny that it is how the ton sees it. Are you ready to learn all there is to learn about being courted?”
Abigail felt a flush creep up her neck, her skin prickling with a sudden, unfamiliar heat. “I... I suppose so,” she stammered, her gaze fixed resolutely on the path ahead. “Though I must admit, the whole process seems rather daunting. So many rules and expectations to navigate, so many ways to misstep and offend.”
Charles chuckled, the sound rich and warm as it rumbled through his chest. “Ah, but that's where the thrill lies, my dear — in the challenge of mastering those rules, of bending them to your will without ever quite breaking them.”
He paused, his expression turning serious as he studied her face, his eyes searching hers with an intensity that made her breath catch. “The first thing you must understand about courtship is that it is a game, a carefully choreographed dance of advance and retreat, of coy glances and veiled intentions. Every move, every gesture, every word spoken carries a weight and a meaning that must be carefully parsed and understood.”
Abigail nodded, her brow furrowing as she tried to absorb this new information. “And how does one go about learning these hidden meanings? These secret codes of behavior that everyone seems to know instinctively?”
Charles smiled, a glint of amusement sparkling in his eyes. “Through observation, my lady. Through careful study of those who have already mastered the game. Watch how they interact, how they flirt and tease and cajole. Listen to the way they speak, the inflections and insinuations that lie beneath their words. And most importantly, learn to read between the lines, to see the truth that lies hidden beneath the polished veneer of society's mask.”
Abigail felt a flicker of unease at his words, a sense that there was something dangerous and alluring about the world he described, a world of secrets and lies and carefully crafted illusions. But there was also a thrill of excitement, a whisper of possibility that made her heart race and her skin tingle with anticipation.
“And what of the practical aspects of courtship?” she asked, curiosity evident in her tone. “The tokens and gestures that signal a suitor's intentions, the steps that lead from introduction to marriage?”
Charles's smile widened, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Ah, now we come to the heart of the matter. The tokens of affection, the love letters and locks of hair, the stolen glances and secret meetings. These are the currency of courtship, the tangible proofs of a suitor's devotion.”
Abigail frowned at this and she glanced at Harriet, who looked at them with a strange smile. Had Hugh even courted her sister-in-law properly? She could not help but wonder.
“What about love?” Abigail asked suddenly and a blush tinged her cheeks when Charles looked at her with raised brows — as though the concept she had mentioned was foreign to him. She hesitated and a soft laugh escaped her lips.
“I just mean,” she explained with a shrug, “I know that in this society most marriages are arranged and I am not quite sure how one chooses whom to court, but… my brother loves his wife. Is that not something worth attempting to find in courtship?”
A strange look appeared on Charles's face — almost forlorn, she thought, as though he was remembering something wholly unpleasant.
When he spoke again, his voice was clipped — and with it, the sunny disposition of the day seemed to appear behind a gloomy cloud.
“I do not know much about love, my lady,” he said simply. “All I know is that it is a dangerous endeavor indeed.”
“A dangerous endeavor?” Abigail echoed, her brow furrowing in confusion. “How can love be dangerous? Surely it is the very thing that gives life meaning, that makes the trials and tribulations of this world bearable?”
Charles sighed, a heavy, weary sound that seemed to come from the very depths of his soul. “If only it were that simple, my lady. But love... love is a double-edged sword, a flame that can warm and sustain, but also burn and destroy.”
He paused, his gaze turning distant and a frown furrowing his brow. “I have seen it happen too many times to count. Bright, beautiful young women, full of hope and promise, undone by the very emotion they thought would save them. They give their hearts too freely, too completely, and in the end, they are left with nothing but ashes and regret.”
Abigail felt a chill run down her spine at his words, and she shook her head. “But surely not all love is like that?” she persisted, a note of desperation creeping into her voice. “What of the love between my brother and his wife? It exists, Your Grace, and from my view it is beautiful.”
Charles turned to face her, his expression softening fractionally. “That is a rare and precious thing indeed, Lady Abigail. But it is not the norm, not in this world of ours.”
Abigail shook her head, unwilling to accept his bleak pronouncement. “I cannot believe that, Your Grace. I will not believe it. Love is not some mere trinket to be bought and sold, but a force of nature, a power that can move mountains and part seas. And I refuse to live in a world where it is treated as anything less.”
Charles studied her for a long moment, his gaze searching her face as though trying to read the secrets of her soul. “You are a rare young woman, Lady Abigail,” he said at last, his voice low. “A true romantic, in a world of cynics and schemers. It is a beautiful thing to behold, but also a dangerous one. For the world is not kind to those who wear their hearts on their sleeves, who believe in love above all else.”
“Then let it be unkind,” Abigail declared, her chin lifting with a defiant air. “Let it sneer and scoff and mock. I will not be cowed by its cruelty, nor will I abandon my ideals for the sake of expediency. If love is to be my downfall, then so be it. At least I will have lived and loved with all my heart, rather than merely existing in some hollow shell of a life.”
Charles let out a bark of laughter, the sound sharp and sudden in the still morning air. “You are a force to be reckoned with, Lady Abigail. A true rebel in a world of conformists and sycophants. I do not know whether to admire you or fear for your safety.”
“Can one not do both?” Abigail asked, a hint of mischief sparkling in her eye. “After all, is that not the mark of a true gentleman — to admire a lady's spirit, even as he seeks to protect her from harm?”
“Indeed it is,” Charles acknowledged, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Though I suspect you are more than capable of protecting yourself than I supposed at first, my lady. You have a strength and a resilience that belies your delicate exterior, a core of steel beneath the silk and lace.”
Abigail felt a flush of pleasure at his words, a warmth blossoming in her chest that had nothing to do with the sun overhead. “You give me too much credit, Your Grace. I am but a woman, with all the frailties and foibles that entails. But I am also determined, and I will not rest until I have made my mark upon this world, for good or for ill.”
Charles came to a sudden halt and he looked down at her, his gaze so intimate that it sent a flush covering her cheeks. “Promise me something, Lady Abigail?” he asked now, his voice softening. “Never change.”
